Scratch Quotes

“Life was like that- there would always be something scratching at the door. And whatever was scratching would just scratch and scratch until you opened the door.”

“Life was like that- there would always be something scratching at the door. And whatever was scratching would just scratch and scratch until you opened the door.”

“Everybody is standing, but you must stand out.Everybody is breaking grounds; but you must breakthrough!Everybody scratching it; but you must scratch it hard!Everybody is going, but you must keep going extra miles!Dare to be exceptionally excellent and why not?”

“Happiness is having a scratch for every itch.”

“Morality never scratch the back of corruption”

“When the last autumn of Dickens's life was over, he continued to work through his final winter and into spring. This is how all of us writers give away the days and years and decades of our lives in exchange for stacks of paper with scratches and squiggles on them. And when Death calls, how many of us would trade all those pages, all that squandered lifetime-worth of painfully achieved scratches and squiggles, for just one more day, one more fully lived and experienced day? And what price would we writers pay for that one extra day spent with those we ignored while we were locked away scratching and squiggling in our arrogant years of solipsistic isolation?Would we trade all those pages for a single hour? Or all of our books for one real minute?”

“Once she called to invite me to a concert of Liszt piano concertos. The soloist was a famous South American pianist. I cleared my schedule and went with her to the concert hall at Ueno Park. The performance was brilliant. The soloist's technique was outstanding, the music both delicate and deep, and the pianist's heated emotions were there for all to feel. Still, even with my eyes closed, the music didn't sweep me away. A thin curtain stood between myself and pianist, and no matter how much I might try, I couldn't get to the other side. When I told Shimamoto this after the concert, she agreed."But what was wrong with the performance?" she asked. "I thought it was wonderful.""Don't you remember?" I said. "The record we used to listen to, at the end of the second movement there was this tiny scratch you could hear. Putchi! Putchi! Somehow, without that scratch, I can't get into the music!"Shimamoto laughed. "I wouldn't exactly call that art appreciation.""This has nothing to do with art. Let a bald vulture eat that up, for all I care. I don't care what anybody says; I like that scratch!""Maybe you're right," she admitted. "But what's this about a bald vulture? Regular vultures I know about--they eat corpses. But bald vultures?"In the train on the way home, I explained the difference in great detail.The difference in where they are born, their call, their mating periods. "The bald vulture lives by devouring art. The regular vulture lives by devouring the corpses of unknown people. They're completely different.""You're a strange one!" She laughed. And there in the train seat, ever so slightly, she moved her shoulder to touch mine. The one and only time in the past two months our bodies touched.”

“A timid mind is apt to mistake every scratch for a mortal wound.”

“We do not create marriage from scratch. Instead, in the elegant language of the marriage ceremony, we 'enter into the holy estate of matrimony.'”

“RACHEL MADDUX | ON STAYING HUNGRY Hunger is everything because it’s nothing - not yet - just raw promise, one lack that may eclipse others: talent, pedigree, luck. Like sharks, the hungry must always keep moving, hunting, killing, “killing it.” - Scratch: Writers, Money, and the Art of Making a Living”

“I thought you were dead." Magnus smiled crookedly. "What, from that scratch?" He glanced down at the reddening jacket in Alec's hand. "Okay, a deep scratch. Like, from a really, really big cat.”